


Darkly Dreaming Dennis

by ghoulette13



Series: Boys' Night Universe [10]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, NO ACTUAL RAPE OR ASSAULT IN FIC, Shitty childhoods, Visions in dreams, mention of childhood sexual assault, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulette13/pseuds/ghoulette13
Summary: aka Time's Up for Dennisaka Dennis is forced to address his 'childhood rape victim' and 'rapist' labelsaka Dennis begins to face the hell of his own creation (aka himself) through the lens of daytime TV.
Series: Boys' Night Universe [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1332182
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Darkly Dreaming Dennis

**Author's Note:**

> This is chronologically set directly after [Boys Night Part Deux](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446003), so I highly suggest reading that to get all the references. 
> 
> This is unfinished and I wanted there to be other stories in the series before this one--but it's 2020 and the world is *gestures vaguely at the flames* so fuck it, I'm publishing what I've got. Progress isn't linear and neither is this series. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

“Welcome back, everyone,” said a deep, booming voice. “Thank you for joining us again on today’s episode of…” the voice paused as a chorus of screams joined him. 

_ “YOUR! NEW! LIFE!” _

On a brightly lit stage dressed with giant blue and yellow imagery, stood Dennis Reynolds at a podium. He was perfectly poised, his outfit draping over his form in a spectacular fashion. The crowd was  _ loving _ him. He was being cheered on and on by waves of fanatics. Nearly all wearing masks of his face and nearly all looking for a chance to be noticed by him.  _ Truly noticed _ . 

Those that weren’t would be on his side soon enough. 

He was certain of it. 

He rolled his eyes at the crowd with a smile: a little show of humility. He knew he deserved their worship, but he wanted to show a bit of insecurity. Show ‘em that he was making an effort for them. It got them all soft-hearted when they would then zoom in and critique and obsess over every single one of his actions, spiraling outwards in theories and daydreams of who Dennis Reynolds sincerely was. ‘ _What is his_ ** _essence_** _?’_ They wondered. ‘ _What gives him such_ ** _grace_** _?’_

_ ‘ _ **_You_ ** _ do,’ _ he wanted to answer as he caressed their masks.

A tall, slender man in a gray suit hopped joyously across the stage, waving at the crowd with a laughing grin. He held a thin black microphone up to his mouth and spoke into the camera. “Welcome back to  _ Your New Life _ , the game show where  _ your soul _ gets a new destination. I’m your host, Grant Anderson.” He smiled at the audience. “That was a nice little break. Now, how’s everybody doing?” He laughed at their responding roar, cheerfully bouncing his shoulders. “Sounds like everyone is  _ still _ doing great! You guys sound  _ fantastic!  _ ” He paused and turned to the winning contestant. “How do you think they sound, Dennis?”

Dennis pushed his ear out to the audience and waved his hands up, egging them on to cheer louder and louder. He was the maestro and the crowd was his orchestra. Their symphony?  _ Ecstasy. _ He could feel his entire chest pulsing and throbbing at their ovations. “They sound pretty great to me, Grant!” 

“Alright, alright. Great stuff, guys!” Grant laughed and settled the bellowing crowd. He padded closer to Dennis and rested a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Now, Dennis, I’ve gotten to know you a little bit.” He smiled approvingly. “I’ve gotten to really see the wealth of potential that’s inside of _you_ , sir, Dennis Reynolds.” He grew solemn for a moment, blinking his eyes upward to collect himself. He squeezed his palm resting on the other man’s shoulder. He spoke to the crowd. “This incredible soul right here has been waiting for purpose _for a long time_.” Dennis beamed inwardly as he watched the crowd melt. “I mean, he waited in line for nearly _eighty-three_ cycles, guys.” Grant chuckled lightly as the audience ‘aww’ed. “If that’s not dedication--” Grant held up his fist. “--if that’s not _passion_ \--” He shook it indignantly. “--if that’s not the heart of an _angel_ \--” He dropped his hand and shrugged. “--then I don’t know what is.” 

Several fans burst into tears as they watched Dennis on stage, so wrapped up in their fantasies of possibly receiving a  _ single ounce _ of his attention. Of being blessed by his mere acknowledgement. 

Grant sighed with a warmth in his heart. “Alright, buddy. Now, I know you’re excited. I know you’ve been real patient, real dedicated, a real stand-up fella.” He turned to the audience. “So, let’s get this ball rolling and find out if we’re gonna make his dreams come true!” He raised his hand in glee. “It’s the moment you’ve  _ all _ been waiting for!” He opened his eyes bright and wide as he fanned out his fingers and walked backward to the side of the stage. “Dennis Reynolds, here it is!” Once he hit the edge of stage left, the crowd joined him in his cheer. 

“ _ YOUR! NEW! LIFE! _ ”

The screen at the center of the stage showed images of beautiful tropical beaches, island paradises, lush gardens. There were gliding images of grey, snow-brushed mountains and deep amber valleys and red wind-sculpted rock formations. The speakers above the stage played sounds of birds chirping, waves crashing, bells tinkling. A comforting mist of water sprayed across Dennis. A fragrant breeze warmed him. At the center of the screen was a shining ball of light with his name underneath. At the top in bright yellow letters, the word “EARTH” appeared. 

The crowd went  _ wild _ . 

Dennis was finding  _ ascension _ .

He shined, beamed, burst at the seams. _ ‘I’m finally free!’ _ He thought. “This is for real?  _ For real _ for real? I’m going to Earth?” He laughed with a palm on his forehead. “Holy shit! This is gonna be...  _ awesome! _ ” 

“Yes it is, buddy! Yes it is!” Grant smiled and laughed to the audience, showing such delight at Dennis’ excitement. He walked back over to the podium. “Now we know this was your ‘dream life’, Dennis, as you wrote it on the questionnaire.” He waved a blue piece of paper that had materialized in his hand. “But it’s my responsibility to make sure that  _ you are ready for it _ .” He punctuated the last few words by poking Dennis in the shoulder with the paper. Grant gave him a cheeky grin. “Are you sure you’re ready, my man? Are you ready to take the dive?” His smile dropped to a more serious, sincere expression. “You’ve spent a long time in this billowy ether of infinite possibilities...” Grant let go of the paper and it vanished into the air. “You’ve been dreaming and planning out your next life for  _ ages _ ….” He reached out to gently touch Dennis on the shoulder. “But are you ready to experience...  _ the reality? _ ”

Dennis tensed a bit, suddenly hit by a strong weight in his chest. He glanced uncertainly at the audience. The masked crowd held their breath in anticipation. He wanted to hear their joy. He needed them to express their approval. He couldn’t bear the silence. He shook the anxiety from his mind and recentered his enthusiasm. “ _ You bet your ass!  _ ” He said eagerly, drumming up an energy he wasn’t sure he could sustain. 

He was met with an explosion of cheers. 

A member of the audience fainted. 

Dennis tried to beam through the twitches in his smile. 

Grant raised his eyebrows to Dennis in feigned surprise. “Alright! That sounds like a _‘yes’_ to me!” He turned to the crowd. “Now I don’t wanna spoil it all. Don’t wanna spoil your new life for ya, bud.” He patted Dennis on the back. “But let’s take a teeny tiny itty-bitty little peek into this life you’ve just won.” He left the microphone to hang in the air as his hand manifested a stack of yellow cards. He began to read them off. “Looks like you’re gonna get a life of wealth and privilege!” His fans roared and Dennis relaxed. “And not just one, but _two_ soulmates!” The encouragement and applause filled up the room again. Dennis felt the weight begin to lift from his chest. ‘ ** _Two_** _soulmates?’_ He was honored. _‘Of course, I’d get two._ _This is_ ** _me_** _they’re talking about.’_ He bowed graciously.

“Uh-oh!” Grant continued. Dennis startled. “This next one’s a doozy!” The host smiled but the weight in Dennis’ chest stagnated. “Looks like you’ve also got a-- _ shitty childhooood! _ ” He dragged out the last word, nearly singing it into his microphone with a grin. A few fans from the audience removed their masks.

A loud, all encompassing BUZZ jarred Dennis--as if his body went from being an outline on paper to a living, breathing  _ thing.  _ He coughed and wiped his hands on his sweater, trying to resettle himself. “A what?” Dennis asked, thickly. The cheering crowd got a little quieter. “A shitty childhood?” Dennis bristled. “I don’t want that!”

“Too bad!” Grant laughed. “No one gets to choose their  _ birth _ family!” Dennis’ curiosity peaked at the host’s emphasis on the word ‘birth’. “You  _ will _ have a twin sister--” Dennis perked up. “But! Your parents will pit you against each other so much that your early time together will be  _ another _ repressed memory!” 

_ Another  _ loud BUZZ. “Wait, what?” Dennis jerked his head back. “ _ I’m _ gonna repress memories?” ‘ _ Memory repression was for… was for…’ _

“Oh yeah, buddy,” Grant chuckled and then turned to the crowd with wide eyes. “A lot of ‘em.” He went to the next card. “Aaand your inability to be safely vulnerable during your most fragile years of adolescence will contribute to your spiraling path of self-destruction!” 

“A  _ spiraling _ path?” Dennis threw his arms out. “You’ve gotta be  _ kidding  _ me!”

As he flipped to the next card, Grant maintained his joyous demeanor. “You will develop debilitating coping mechanisms as you struggle desperately to find peace of mind among all the other challenges of  _ existing _ and  _ managing  _ existence on your new home world of--” He stopped reading and looked at the audience. “-- _ Planet Earth. _ ”

Another loud BUZZ and it coiled something tightly inside of Dennis from the top of his head to his core. “What the _hell?!_ ” A bubbling anger filled him from his fingers to his shoulders to his neck. “Everyone’s always talking about how great _Earth_ is and how they can’t wait to go back, and this is what _I_ get? This is what _I_ _fucking_ get?” He seethed.

“That’s not all, buddy!” Grant laughed with such pleasure, turning to the next card. “On top of repressing your  _ memories _ , you’ll also be repressing your  _ emotioooons! _ “ Grant sang to Dennis but kept his big bright eyes on the dimming crowd. “Get ready for years of: denial!” His cheer was accompanied by the loud BUZZ, again, sending a violent shock through Dennis’ nervous system. “Shame!” BUZZ. Grant raised his free hand. “Fear!” BUZZ. He turned to the audience. “And, you guessed it!” He pointed to a trembling Dennis. “ _ Self-hatreeeed!  _ ” The ensuing BUZZ nearly caused Dennis to collapse. Grant laughed and patted the man on the shoulder. 

Dennis twisted away, fighting the urge to tackle the host into the ground. His blood pumped heavily and steadily. “I get _repression?_ And _shame?_ And _denial?_ ” Dennis scoffed. “ _I_ get _denial?!_ _Me?!_ ” He threw out his arms and stomped, still quaking from the loud piercing sound of the buzzer. “ _Bullshit!_ This is such _bullshit!_ ” The crowd was nearly silent now and he was too angry to care about their happiness. Not when _this_ was what fate had in store for him. Not when that _sound_ was still echoing through his muscles. “The whole fucking point of Earth is emotions! That’s why everybody goes! To _feel_ shit!” He fisted his shirt at the chest and tugged outward. “That’s the _whole goddamn point!_ ” He pounded his fists into his thighs and shouted. “The whole point is to be inside a body and _do_ shit with it!”

“It sure is, folks!” Grant laughed and pointed at the crowd with a sweep of his arm. “It sure is!” He brushed Dennis casually on the shoulder before turning to the next card. “Hey-ooo!” He yelled. “Looks like you’re also gonna be a--” He lingered a moment before continuing. “-- _ Childhood Rape Victim!  _ ” He raised his fist in the air and hooted. 

BUZZ

Dennis’ gut sank heavy, weighted, leaden, low.

“No, that wasn’t--it wasn’t--” Dennis shook his head diligently. ‘ _ Ms. Klinsky made me feel so special, so  _ **_noticed_ ** _. Truly  _ **_noticed_ ** _.’ _ The optimistic crowd that once worshipped his presence began dropping their heads in pity and disappointment. “She saw the man I could  _ become!  _ ” BUZZ. ‘ _ I was only fourteen, though. A mostly blank slate. Still so much potential to be anything and anyone… and she…’  _

He felt sick and desperate. __

Tears were already prickling the corner of his eyes.

He tried to get the crowd back.

“I knew what I wanted!” BUZZ. He shuddered. “I was in  _ control!  _ “ ‘ _ I am Dennis Reynolds and I really thought I was in control.’ _

“Not at that age, buddy!” Grant laughed with his face to the crowd and pulled the next card. “Ooh!” He pursed his lips. “Looks like we’ve got a  _ double whammy!  _ ” He grinned and Dennis shrank even further. “Not only will you be raped as a child, but you will also become a  _ rapist, yourself! _ ” 

“I’m not--that’s not--” Dennis shook his head more fervently than before, his entire body pulsing in alarm. He waved his finger out ahead of him with his eyes closed. The brief feeling of vulnerability was replaced by the speedy construction of giant walls in his mind. The audience gasped and several groups started screaming and running to the exits. “Hey! Hey! Wait!” He yelled out. ‘ _ They eventually said ‘yes!’ _ “It wasn’t  _ rape! _ You can’t rape the  _ willing!  _ ” He shouted in defense while a series of blurry images flashed in his mind. ‘ _ That’s just the game of  _ **_sex!_ ** _ ’  _ He wanted to explain through the blaring siren in his head. _ ‘The entire  _ **_point_ ** _ is to convince women to either give it up or to let me take it!’  _ “That’s just how it's supposed to  _ work! _ ” 

The crowd continued to dissolve at a rapid pace. Audience members started throwing things at him on stage: a water bottle, some chairs, half a tuna sandwich. “The  _ law _ says--” he began in a shaky voice with a shaky hand. A fan wearing a mask of Dennis’ face hopped up on the platform. They charged toward his crotch with a knife, but got tackled by security before they could do any damage.

“We’ve got a lot of passionate people here!” Grant pointed and laughed as security dragged the screaming fanatic away. Dennis was crouching near the podium, eyes wide and panicked. The ringing siren was so loud in his ears, in his head, in his soul. He could feel something in his stomach getting heavier and heavier. “Real passionate people, huh?” Grant continued.

Dennis stared out at his once-adoring crowd. The seats were mostly empty, now. There were eyes peeking in from the exits. In the rear of the studio was a scattered group of masked fans, talking and nodding to one another with pens and notepads. A handful of people crowded the stage and stared up at him with wild, hypnotized gazes. Another handful continued to eat their popcorn.

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Grant began, still grinning. “I’m not saying that childhood rape victims are destined to be rapists.” He held a palm up in surrender while his other hand grabbed the mic. He turned to Dennis. “I’m not blaming your rapistry on your own rape here, pal.” Grant rolled his shoulders. “I’m just here to let you know that YOU--” 

He got closer to the other man, eyes glittering at Dennis’ withering form. 

“--ARE--” 

He both dragged out the word and punctuated it. 

“--A--” 

Dennis felt so weighted down, so flat to the ground, nearly disappearing. 

“ _ RAPIST!  _ ” 

The loud all-encompassing BUZZ returned and pierced Dennis so significantly that he startled awake.

The pulsing siren continued to ring throughout his body--his body that he could neither sense nor move. ‘ _ I’m not, am I?’  _ He questioned. ‘ _ I mean, there were misunderstandings… but I’m not…’ _ He opened his eyes blearily and saw a room he failed to recognize. For a split second all he saw were flat shapes that varied in color--no name to them. Just outlines. 

Acid boiled in his stomach.

_ ‘I’m in my bedroom,’  _ he told himself _. _ A quick gasp of air and the shapes filled out into forms. He saw his closet door, his armoire, his desk. He looked down and saw a lumpy comforter. 

_‘Oh,’_ he realized. _‘That’s_ ** _me._** _’_

The loud din in his head began to soften. 

_ ‘I'm not a rapist,’ _ he cringed.

He conjured up an image of a mugshot he had seen on tv one time: an old, disheveled, degenerate man with wild gray hair and a snarl that was somehow both pathetic  _ and _ evil. 

_ ‘Now  _ **_that_ ** _ was a rapist.’ _

_ ‘That was  _ **_not_ ** _ Dennis Reynolds.’  _

_ ‘Dennis Reynolds was not  _ **_that_ ** _.’  _

His breaths came easier and the sense of panic began to dull. ‘ _ Mac and Charlie were just giving me a hard time about my flow last night,’  _ he tried to convince himself.  _ ‘That’s all. They were just getting me worked up. That’s just what they did.’ _

He remembered suddenly, Mac and Charlie's display on the pool table with their mouths pressed against each other.

The alarm in his head still sounded. He closed his eyes.

_ ‘ _ **_Fuck_ ** _ Mac.’  _ He seethed. ‘ **_Fuck_ ** _ Charlie, too. I don’t need those assholes. I can deal with this  _ **_shit_ ** _ on my own.’  _ His heart started beating in his ears. ‘ _ Shit. Shit. Shit.’  _ He squeezed his eyes tighter and his retreat inward quickened. 

_ ‘I’m alone. I’m alone.’ _ He told himself, feeling trapped by the weight of his own body.

‘... _ But what if I wasn’t?’  _ He asked the ether. ‘ _ What if Mac and Charlie  _ **_were_ ** _ here? What would they tell me to do? ...A simple curious hypothetical. That's all,’  _ he tried to tell himself calmly through the panic.

He closed his eyes again and imagined an arctic cave. It chilled his already numb skin. He stepped further into the expanse, watching white clouds of his breath puff out and disappear. Puff out and disappear. He turned a corner and saw Mac and Charlie sitting on a block of ice. Charlie threw rocks at the dangling frozen stalactites and Mac picked his nails with his pocket knife. Mac tugged the collar of his duster, unintentionally exposing more of his new physique. He glanced over to Dennis. "Breathe or don’t," he shrugged and turned back to his nails.

_ ‘Goddamnit,’  _ Dennis grimaced.

_ ‘Breathing.’ _

_ ‘Always with the goddamn breathing…’  _

_ ‘Fine! You want me to breathe? I’ll fucking breathe.’ _

He pressed his shoulders into the mattress and arched his back. With a deep inhale he expanded out his chest, sucking in as much oxygen as he possibly could. He pictured two slate lungs filling up until they pushed heavily against his ribs, bulging through the open spaces between the slatted bones. He counted to four and let go. The lungs in his mind receded inward and shrank into tiny shriveled husks. He counted to four and restarted the process. He continued steadily, not even bothering to tally his reps. This alone was enough for him to escape into the rushing energy of his mind, changing the stabbing flutter of his gut into a warm steady press.

Unfortunately his practice was short-lived. 

The peaceful trance was interrupted by the painful buzz of his phone. ‘ _ The goddamn buzz from my dream.’ _ It began to chatter away on his nightstand as the torrent of text messages flooded in like bullets to his eardrums. 

“Ruining my goddamn flow…,” he muttered to himself. ‘ _ It was just about my flow. They just like giving me a hard time’.  _ His reverie would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are appreciated!! I'm trying to get back to working on this series even tho the world is a shitshow and i'm easily frozen by its horror.
> 
> also! Let me know if there's any pertinent tags I should add!
> 
> Thank you!!


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